


What the hell would I be, without you?

by hisfreckleswerestars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Absent John Winchester, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Asexual Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel Works in a Bookstore, Dean Loves Pie, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Internalized Acephobia, M/M, Mary Winchester Lives, Mechanic Dean, Misunderstandings, Road Trips, Underage is because Dean is 16/17
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-01 16:31:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisfreckleswerestars/pseuds/hisfreckleswerestars
Summary: Dean goes off on a road trip to find his soulmate and stop the ever present ache in his chest. But why does it feel like his soulmate keeps getting farther and farther away, like they're running away from him? And why isn't Castiel, his best friend, returning any of his calls?Castiel knew it was Dean’s birthday. He knew his birthday like he knew that the sky was blue, or that Earth was round. It was just a simple fact of life, ingrained in his very being.~ On an indefinite hiatus until I get my shit together ~





	1. We will grow old as friends, I've promised that before. So what's one more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Swearing, Dean has sexual fantasies (so don't read this if you're _really_ squicky about sex), underage alcoholism to cope (but only one scene), mentions of alcoholic John Winchester (but Mary booted him out of their lives), internalized acephobia in the beginning, past Dean/other(s) (he's been with Benny, Crowley, Lydia, Lisa, Anna, and maybe? Garth), OC Lydia
> 
> Title is taken from _Sick of Losing Soulmates_ by Dodie Clark.
> 
> Since I identify as asexual myself, I thought it was about time to write a Destiel fanfiction with Ace!Cas/Bi!Dean, my personal headcanon of the characters. 
> 
> Also, in this fic, Castiel isn't Demisexual. He is a sex-repulsed Asexual, and doesn't want sex, period. So if you're reading this hoping he'll eventually come around and have sex with Dean, get rid of that notation. There _is_ a happy ending, however, and Dean and Cas manage to have a romantic, sexless, relationship.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not all asexual people are the same. Not all are like this characterization of Castiel. Some are willing to have sex with the right partner. Some won't touch sex with a ten-foot pole. Some get aroused from other people having sex, but don't want to participate themselves (me). The only requirement is that you don't experience sexual attraction, and _identify_ as asexual. Feel free to ask any sexuality questions in the comments. :)

_Dean - December 31, 2016_

Dean had low-key been trying to have sex with his best friend since 10th grade. But, honestly, who could blame him? Castiel was absolutely gorgeous. His dark hair was always in a disheveled state that looked like he just got out of bed ~~and maybe had some fantastic sex the night before~~. Cas was just beginning to grow a scruffy beard that Dean wanted to feel on his cheeks when he kissed him. Or maybe that beard scratching the insides of his thighs while Cas licked him open. Sometimes, Cas wore pants that hung low on his hips, and Dean could make a pair of sharp hip bones that he wanted to nip and bite at. And, _fuck_ , his eyes. They were a brilliant shade of blue, like an ever-burning supernova.

Dean subtly flirted with Cas whenever he had the change. A hand on his thigh there. Staring at his lips for a second too long there. And Cas never complained. Dean would almost think that the flirting had completely gone over his head, if it wasn’t for the light blush that always painted his cheeks. But then, a few days ago, Cas had begun dating Meg Masters. Dean chalked Cas's blushing down to embarrassment, and labeled Cas as straight as an arrow.

And, hey, it was New Year’s Eve. Perfect time to drown his sorrows.

Dean was at a New Year’s party at Cas’s house. His older brother, Gabriel (yep, the whole family was named after angels; super religious folk. And, no, he wasn’t going to sprout some romantic bullshit about Cas being an actual angel), always threw some large party for the holidays. Dean had been out of town last October, but he’d heard that the Halloween party had been outrageous. Apparently, Gabriel and a few of his friends had gone as “sexy” demons and devils. Cas told him that he’d been mentally scarred from seeing Gabe half naked, wearing only bright red swimming bikini panties and plastic devil horns.

Dean pushed away the memory. He was trying to forget Cas, not think about him every second of every day. Cas was straight, and he had no chance with him.

He made his way over to the overloaded table in the kitchen. ~~Cas’s brother~~ Gabe had really outdone himself this year. There were a few bottles of beer, seemingly the expensive kind, though he wasn’t an expert. A bottle of vodka, tequila, and whiskey sat on the table with a few glasses next to them. Dean grabbed a beer - an IPA - and twisted the cap off with an unpracticed motion. He threw the cap away and took a long drink - the first beer he’d ever had.

It tasted like crap. Dean coughed, trying to keep the alcohol down. His nose scrunched up from the bitterness of it. He couldn’t understand why his dad used to drink enough of this to get shit-faced drunk, stumbling home from the bar at ass o’clock at night. After his dad raised a hand to Dean’s mom - a flat-palmed slap - she finally snapped, and sent him packing. He’d been gone before Dean’s freshman year. Dean hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in his life, too afraid of becoming like his father. But, tonight, he just wanted to _forget_.

“Hello, Squirrel,” a voice behind him drawled. “Not familiar with alcohol yet?”

Dean spun around. Fergus MacLeod - or Crowley, as he liked to be called - was standing at the kitchen entrance wearing a black suit and a bored expression.

“Hiya Crowley,” Dean greeted, trying to keep his voice flat. He took another swig of beer, managing to keep his nose from scrunching up in distaste.

Crowley crossed the room, almost brushing up against Dean. Dean stepped out of Crowley’s way while the other man poured himself a large glass of scotch whiskey. “I thought that dear old daddy would have taught you the joys of alcohol before now?”

Dean only rolled his eyes, already familiar with Crowley’s jests. “Oh, yeah? Like the father that abandoned you as a baby?”

“Getting rather repetitive, aren’t we, Dean?” Crowley said coolly. “This is the tenth time you’re responded with that, and it still doesn’t hurt.” He took another sip of his whiskey.

Dean fumbled for a second. “Well… fuck you,” he finally said.

“Already have. You left immediately after and didn’t return any of my texts.”

Dean looked at Crowley in disbelief. “You’re still hung up on that? It was implied that it would just be a one-time hookup. I don’t do romance.”

Now it was Crowley’s turn to roll his eyes. “Is that why you dated that Lisa girl immediately after me?”

Lisa had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. She had long, dark, hair, and chestnut brown eyes that were as far from blue as they could possibly be. Dean spent the most bendy weekend of his life with her. He’d tried pegging for the first time. And it was fucking awesome. Then he and Lisa fucked a few more times after that. It wasn’t dating, not really; she was just a good lay. But, after a few weeks, Lisa had wanted something more. She wanted to become his girlfriend. And, a small part of him had felt like he was cheating on Cas. So he broke it off with her, and went back to becoming a single guy who may or may not have been hopelessly in love with his best friend. And then, to top it off, Cas had begun dating Meg.

“Haven’t you heard?” Dean asked. “It didn’t pan out. And, I swear to God if you make a pansexual pun…”

“Oh Dean. I have more taste than that. Although this would be a pan-tastic opportunity for one,” Crowley nonchalantly took another sip of his scotch while keeping a straight face (ha ha straight). Ugh. He thought he was so cool with his… british accent and stupid fancy suit. Dean didn’t know whether he wanted to punch him or fuck him. _Hmm. Maybe some hate sex_. Dean shook that thought out of his head. He must be really smashed if he was really considering fucking his sworn enemy. He didn’t want to sink that low _again_.

Dean finally turned away. “Later hater,” he called over his shoulder as he exited the kitchen. Dean was too far away away to hear Crowley’s annoyed and no doubt clever reply.

In the living room, some of Crowley’s friends were hanging out. Abaddon and Gordon Walker seemed to be running a game of shots. Metatron was passed on the couch. Dean felt around his pockets, and managed to come up with a sharpie. He brought the sharpie up to Metatron’s face. Ruby stared at him over her large glass of vodka, not making any move to stop him. Dean drew a squiggly dick on Metatron’s face. Senior year really matures a guy.

Dean took another swig of his beer as he headed out of the room. Now that he was familiar with the bitterness, it tasted almost good, and he delighted in the light, buzzing, feeling that thumped around his skull.

He made his way around the rest of the house, staying hi to a few familiar faces and sending quiet death glares at the others (mostly his exes). He kept an eye out of Cas, but his best friend must’ve decided to stay in his room during the party.

Dean ended up in the backyard with three minutes left til’ midnight. A small part of his brain (probably the intoxicated part) wondered what it would be like to kiss Cas at midnight on New Year’s. It was practically the most romantic thing that could ever happen. His eyes slipped close as he pictured it. Cas cupped the back of Dean’s neck with a solid hand, tugging them closer until the front of their bodies lined up. He leaned forward, stopping until there was a centimeter between their lips. Dean growled, and Cas chuckled, finally pushing his lips up against Dean’s. It started out sweet and chaste, but then became heated and messy. Cas pushed him against the brick wall of his house, a tight hand on Dean’s hips. He left open-mouthed marks on Dean’s neck. Cas’s hand trailed under his T-Shirt, raking down his chest, then lower, palming at Dean’s-

A hand playfully slapped his shoulder, cutting off his fantasy. Dean opened his eyes. In front of him was a girl with long, reddish hair and eyes of a similar shade. Dean was pretty sure that he'd seen her walking around the halls before, but he didn't know her by name.

“Uh, hey, miss,” he said shortly. “What’re you-”

His voice was cut off by the press of her lips on his. Her mouth pushed hungrily and impatiently against his. He was too surprised to respond. ~~Maybe he didn’t want to~~. He finally opened his mouth, and her tongue thrust brutally inside. His only thought was that Cas would be a much better kisser; their first kiss would be gentle and unhurried.

Around them, literal explosions went off. The New Year had begun. Dean stepped away from the girl, her lips following his. He spent a brief moment looking at the fireworks - beautiful array of lights streaking across the sky with thundering sounds - before the girl turned his attention back to her by clearing her throat loudly. Dean had almost forgotten she was there.

"Why'd you kiss me?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"Well, it's New Year's, and you're hot, so I thought, why not?" She responded with a smirk.

The girl named him a small piece of paper with numbers written on it in loopy handwriting. Dean looked down at it, not understanding what the paper was.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "My number. So you can call me later. Name's Lydia, by the way." She left, hips swaying.

Dean was just about to throw the paper in the beer-canned filled trash can when someone caught his eye. He looked over and, yep, that was Castiel standing near the garden. He wore his signature trench coat and tie, not one to wear casual clothes, even at a party. His dark hair was all messy, and his blue eyes were bright. Meg Masters stood next to him. And not in an acquaintances way. No, she was draped all over him. Her head was situated on his shoulder, and her nail-polished hand held onto his arm. She looked comfortable, and they were talking, _laughing_. Sure, he'd known that Cas and Meg were dating, but he didn't know they were _dating_ dating.

Dean looked down at the paper with Lydia's digits on it. Then he looked over at Cas and Meg. Then back at the paper. He pulled out his phone and slowly typed Lydia's number into it.

###### 

_Dean - January 4, 2017_

On Wednesday, Cas brought Meg over for movie night.

On Thursday, Dean texted Lydia and arranged a date.

###### 

_Dean - January 7, 2017_

Lydia was beautiful. She wore a dress that accented her best physical qualities. Her breasts were nice. Her ass was round. And, best of all, she didn't have dark hair or blue eyes.

Dean brought her to Ellen's Restaurant, The Harvelle's Roadhouse. Dean ordered a big, juicy, burger while Lydia got a salad. They talked about everything and nothing. Dean told her about his job as a mechanic for his father figure, Bobby. She talked about her mundane job as a sales associate. The conversation was nice. They ate quickly and Dean left Jo a large tip. After all, he wasn't here to go on a date. He was here to fuck Cas out of his mind.

Once they got into the car, it was like all of a sudden a wet pail of water had been dumped over both of them. Their conversation slowed to only a few polite words a minute, and soon there was only the sound of the engine of the car and the AC.

A few minutes passed by. Finally, Dean had had enough. The silence was suffocating. He gave in and reached over to turn on the radio, settling on channel 101.1 FM. If he wasn’t going to put in any of his cassette tapes, the least he could do would be to put on some Classic Rock. There was no way in hell that he was going to listen to some soapy romance songs or shitty classical music, even if this was a date.

 _Saturday Night Special_ filled the air, and he let the song wash over him, finally able to breathe again. Mary Winchester had passed on her love of classic rock to him, and they both viewed Lynyrd Skynyrd as one of the best bands out there, almost as good as Led Zeppelin.

His fingers idly tapped along to the beat, pattering lightly on the steering wheel. He sang along softly, his voice quiet. “Its a Saturday night special. Got a barrel that's blue and cold. Ain't no good for nothin’. But put a man six feet in a hole.” Normally he would have belted out the lyrics, but he felt that Lydia deserved at least a little bit of politeness. So, a reigned himself in.

His eyes were bright, his voice was unwavering, and he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. They still have a few minutes left, but he was confident enough to call this the best date he’s ever had. He looked over at Lydia, expecting to see at least some semblance of a smile on her face, but instead her expression was upset and her mouth was set in a thin line.

She lifted her arm off her lap. Dean spent a split second thinking that she might try to hold his hand or rest her hand on his knee. That would be nice. She did neither of these, and instead lifted her hand changed the radio to a different channel.

“All I want for Christmas is you” a voice from the radio - 97.3 FM - crowed. Anger flashed through him. Sure, he hadn’t given his date the “driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole” spiel, but it should be basic human decency to not change the channel of a song that someone was singing along to. And to fucking Christmas music, of all things.

“W-why’d you change it?” Dean asked, struggling to keep his voice flat.

“Well I didn’t really like it. The guy was really bad at singing. And - like - were those trumpets or something? It was just a bad song,” she told him, her voice now sounding prep-ish and squeaky, as compared to earlier when he’d viewed it as singsong.

He stared at her for a moment in disbelief. _Did she just - did she insult Lynyrd Skynyrd?_ Then, he turned his attention back to the road so he wouldn’t swerve into a tree. After the tree-incident had been evaded, he asked her casually, “So, uh, how do you feel about other Classic Rock bands? Like Led Zepp, Pink Floyd, The Who, ACDC…”

“They’re pretty awful. It’s just a bunch of screaming and loud guitars. Do some people honestly call that music?” 

His grip on the wheel tightened. He was silently sending her a _fuck you_ , and in a completely opposite way then he’d been doing earlier. “Then, what music do you like?” He asked in the most polite tone he could manage at the moment.

“Oh, well, Justin Bieber, Miley Cyrus, Britney Spears,” she began. He felt his dislike of her grow as she continued prattling on. “One Direction, Rebecca Black, Katy Perry - you know, the usuals.” Ha. Like she had a right to police him on _his_ music.

Thankfully, they had finally made it to Lydia’s house. He pulled up to it and stopped the car. “Well, goodnight,” he said with forced politeness, something he’d seemed to be doing a lot on this date. 

She looked a little disappointed. Her mouth opened like she was about to say something, but she closed her mouth and got out of the car without a word. Lydia closed the door and made it to the other side of the door. She tapped on his window, requesting that he lower it. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he lowered the window. “Yes?” He asked.

Lydia gave him a pleasant smile, and twisted a lock of red hair behind her ear. “Well, uh, I wondered if you wanted to come in?” She wormed her lip between her teeth. “My parents aren’t home, you know.”

A few hours - minutes, even - ago that would have been attractive. He would have met her flirtatious smile with one of his own, and maybe even thrown in a wink. Then he would’ve followed her into her daddy’s expensive house, and slammed her against the front door. He would’ve kissed her until they were both breathless, and then they would’ve made their way to her bedroom, shredding clothes along the way. They would have the most mind-blowing sex that he’d ever had. She would come with his name on her lips and he would follow her a few moments later.

And, yet, in that moment, she was the most unattractive person he had ever seen. 

“Sorry,” he gave her a regretful smile. “I have work tomorrow and I want to be well rested for it.” It was a blatant lie, but she didn’t know that.

Lydia looked at him in surprise, utterly out of her element. “Oh. Well, call me then.”

“If I have the chance,” he said indifferently, not wanting to lead her on.

She turned around and made her way up the steps to her house. Her ass didn’t even look that nice anymore. Dean rolled up his window and drove away without saying goodbye.

###### 

Dean dug out his phone and dialled his friend’s number. Cas picked up on the second ring.

“Hello Dean,” Castiel said in his usual gravelly voice.

Dean felt a smile tug at his lips at the familiar phrase. “Hey Cas. So, uh, my date didn’t really go very well. Is movie night still on?”

Cas was silent for a moment; thinking. Finally, he answered. “Yes, I suppose. I can come over, but I don’t know if Charlie, Jo, Benny, and Garth will be able to make it.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I know it’s rather last minute.”

“Well, then, I’ll be over in about fifteen minutes. I think I still have a few leftover slices of pie that I can bring over.”

“That’s great, man,” Dean said, still smiling. “I’ll get A New Hope up and ready for us. Bye.”

“See you then,” Cas said, ending the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to have at least eight chapters, though it'll probably end up having more and become hella long. I'm going to post once a week, on either Saturday or Sunday.
> 
> And, I swear I'm still working on _Dean's a Secret Romantic_. I wrote about half of the next chapter, but then the "writing juices" just... stopped. So I'll work on that as well.
> 
> Idk alcohol that well. Tell me if something is incorrect. Also, I had not been intending for Crowley/Dean to happen, but then my brain was like "but hate sex and an ex's quarrel" so just go with it. I am also sorry for the bad pun.


	2. In our grey-haired circle, waiting for the end; Time and hearts will wear us thin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes on a pretty terrible date. But, it’s alright, because he later watches Star Wars with his best friend Castiel. And those light, fluttery, feelings he’s experiencing are _nothing_ , okay? Maybe he got digestion issues from that delicious apple pie Cas brought over. Maybe he’s still sick from that burger he ate at dinner. Maybe… ~~fuck, he’s in love with Cas~~.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post two days early early. Some Cas POV in this chapter. :) Also, I'm sorry if the flashing between times is kind of confusing.

_Dean - January 7, 2017_

Castiel arrived at the door with - true to his word - two steaming slices of apple pie. It looked warm and inviting, and Dean had to physically stop himself from inhaling the pie right there.

“C-come and put that pie on the table over here,” Dean walked back to his living room with Cas in tow, not willing to be more than two feet from the pie.

Cas place the plate carefully on the coffee table, then took off his shoes and shrugged off his trench coat. He placed both of these on the side chair. Dean was too busy drooling over the pie to check him out.

“Can I have pie now?” Dean asked, using his puppy eyes to his full advantage.

“Once the movie has started,” Cas told him sternly as he sat down on the couch next to Dean.

Dean upped his puppy eyes game. “Please?”

“Fine,” Castiel said with a large sigh, giving in like he always did.

Dean practically dived for the pie. He pulled the plate closer to him and took a gigantic scoop of pie with his fork. Dean let out a low moan that always managed to make his dates blush. Castiel only rolled his eyes and gave him a fond smile.

“Is it good, Dean?” Cas asked.

“Fuck yeah,” he said around his bite of pie. “And, like, it’s so warm. How’d you do that?”

“I put it in the oven,” Cas deadpanned. “As in an enclosed compartment used for cooking and heating food.”

“You heated it up just for me?” Dean gave him the best smile he can with his mouth stuffed full of pie. “Thanks, man. And, you should eat some too.” He held the plate out to Cas.

His friend scooted closer so that he could reach it. He got a big heaping of pie on his fork and then lowered it to his mouth. Dean eye’s followed to movement, watching as his lips closed over the fork. Cas swallowed the bite of pie, his head thrown back as his eyes rolled back into his head. He licked the last bit of filling from his fingers, and dived in to get another bite.

Dean’s eyes snapped away with a flush to his cheeks. _Cas is straight_ , he told himself. _There’s no way he could ever be interested in you_. And, yet, a small part of himself thought that wasn’t exactly true. Cas sometimes stared at him a bit too long. Cas sometimes blushed when their hands touched. Cas sometimes laughed a second too long at Dean’s jokes. _Nah, you’re just projecting, Dean. Just because he enjoys your company doesn’t be he wants to get in your pants. You can have at least one friend that you haven’t had sex with, besides Charlie, which doesn’t even count ‘cause she’s a lesbian_.

“Dean,” his friend prompted him, nudging him with his fork. “Are you ready to start the movie?”

“Wh- oh, yeah. Start it up,” he told Cas. He shoveled the last bit of pie into his mouth and placed the scraped-clean plate back on the coffee table. Dean put his feet up on the coffee table and reclined back in his seat, one arm slung over the back of the couch while the other arm sat on the arm rest.

Cas kicked his feet up in an imitation of Dean. He hadn’t shifted from the center of the couch, where he had first moved to so they could share the pie. His hands hung loosely in his lap. He picked up the remote from the table and pressed the PLAY button.

The words _a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…_ appeared on the screen, and the summary started scrolling. The Star Wars Theme Song sang out of the speakers in angelic glory. Dean grinned and burst into song. _Daa, dada da, dada dadadadadaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…_

Cas gave him an affectionate smile. Dean rocked an air guitar solo (shut up, you _can_ play an air guitar solo for Star Wars) while Cas drummed his fingers along to the beat.

The music stopped and Dean was meet with a familiar spaceship scene sent against the dark emptiness of space. A spaceship chase ensues. Then Darth Vader appeared on screen. He tried to get the death star plans from Leia, but failed. The movie faded into the background as Dean focused more on Cas - sitting next right next to him, their hands almost brushing, Dean's arm on the back of the couch almost brushing against Cas's hair.

“When did this come out?” Cas asked out of the blue, sounding impressed.

“1977,” Dean replied. “So - uh - about 40 years ago. Amazing technology, right?”

Cas made a nod of agreement. “And to think that, today, producers are coming up with movies that don’t even reach the level they were forty years ago.”

“Well, Star Wars was ahead of its time.”

Conversation ceased for a while as they focus their attention on the movie. Dean sent a few quick glances Cas's way, noting his reactions to some of the scenes.

After a while, Dean felt Cas start to grow restless. He looked over at his friend. “You okay there, Cas?”

“I was wondering… did your date go well?” Cas asked.

Dean fixed his attention on the TV. “Not that well,” he admitted.

“Why?” He side-eyed Dean. “Did she not want to have sex?”

“No. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that _I_ didn’t. Want to fuck, I mean.” He shifted on the couch. “Can you imagine that? Who turns down sex when a pretty girl offers?”

Cas’s expression shifted into one that Dean couldn’t read, and his friend coughed awkwardly. “So _why_ did you decline?”

“See, that’s the part I’m not sure of, man. Like, she was definitely attractive. That dress really did things for her figure, and she was exactly my type - dark hair, a nice ass. And, the date itself was rather nice. We got along well at the restaurant, and then she asked me to drive her home, and I was still thinking about fucking her at that point. But, then, in the car drive…” He let out a long sigh. “This is going to sound really silly.”

“Go on,” Cas prompted him. “I won’t laugh.”

“Ok. Well, in the car drive it was just really awkward. All of the easy conversation-making from earlier was gone. So, then, I turned on the radio because the ride was too uncomfortable. And the classic rock station, naturally. So then _Saturday Night Special_ came on. You know that song, right?”

“Yes, by Lynyrd Skynyrd. It’s on one of your cassette tapes that you like to listen to.”

Dean felt a little touched that Cas had paid attention. His friend had been a die-hard classical music lover, but in the few years since he’d known him he’d recruited Cas to becoming a Classic Rock fan. Most of his Classic Rock education had come from listening to Dean’s cassette tapes when they were in the car together. “Yeah, so, _Saturday Night Special_. I began singing along to the song and was tapping my fingers along to the beat. I felt _good_. I felt _happy_. That’s the moment when everything changed.”

He paused a moment for dramatic effect, like he’d used to do for Sammy when telling him bedtime stories.

Cas fixed him with a smirk. “Let me guess. The fire nation attacked.”

Dean let out a laugh. “I should’a never introduced you to tumblr. It’s been a bad influence on you. Not that I’m any better.” He winked and Cas looked away, his cheeks red in what Dean figured was embarrassment.

“Yeah, so, _while_ I was listening to my music and feelin’ the groove, she reached over and changed the radio station. To _Christmas_ music. And when I asked her why, she told me that it was a bad song and the singer wasn’t good. That Ronnie and Johnny weren’t good singers. And then I listed some of my favorite singers and bands, and she said that she didn’t like any of those either. Apparently she enjoys listening to some modern-day, shitty pop artists,” Dean told his friend, almost out of breath. “And I know it was the stupidest little thing, but I didn’t like her any more after that.”

“It’s okay, Dean, you’ll find someone someday,” Cas told him gently.

“Yeah, about that. It seems like this whole soulmate thing is absolute bullshit,” he said, his tone taking on one of ranting. “Oh, yes, everyone finds their perfect person after they turn 18, or a little later. Does that mean that it’s not worthwhile to date someone before then? What if this soulmate isn’t that great? What if they - they die soon after you meet them? Should you just be said and miserable for the rest of your life? What if you choose someone else?”

“There’s what-ifs in every possible scenario,” Cas countered. “What if the person you married instead of your soulmate turned out to be a… total douche? What if your soulmate was actually a wonderful, amazing, person?”

Dean pondered that. "Well, I guess I'll just have to wait and see."

###### 

_Castiel - September 18th, 2016_

Today, September 18th, was Castiel’s birthday. He was officially 18 years old. And he felt nothing. No second heartbeat intertwined with his, no feverish _want_ itching beneath his skin. Either Cas didn’t have a soulmate, or his soulmate hadn’t yet turned 18. _Dean is only 17_ , his brain supplied. _Be quiet_ , he told it.

He groggily got up and got himself ready, sighing the whole way (he was the complete opposite of a morning person). Cas walked into their kitchen, relieved to only see his younger sister, Anna, sitting at their breakfast table. He couldn't deal with Gabriel, Michael, or any of this brothers right now.

Anna raised a hand in greeting, but Cas ignored her in favor of pouring himself a steaming cup of coffee. He took a large sip, almost draining the mug, not bothered by the scathing hot temperature of the water. He faced his sister. "Hey, Anna. Where are our brothers?"

"Off doing who knows what," she said with a sigh. "I think Gabe is trying to ask Kali out."

Cas snorted into his coffee. "I hope he didn't give her poisonous flowers this time."

They both laughed. Anna opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by the _ring_ of their telephone. The both looked over to where it sat between them on the kitchen table. _Dean, 1-866-907-3235_ the phone read. Him and Anna both reached it at the same time.

"Oh, sorry," Cas said quickly, drawing his hand back. "I forgot you two were dating. It's probably for you." And, until now, he _had_ forgotten that his sister and best friend were dating. They hooked up once, a few weeks ago, but hadn't really done much since. After Dean's date with Lydia didn't go that well, Dean came over and asked Anna whether she would like to officially be dating him. She gave him a puzzled, "yes", and that was that. But, whenever Dean came over, he was always there for Cas, to hang out with him or to pick him up to take him to their favorite burger joint.

"Hi Dean. What're you - Oh, you're here for him?" Anna spoke into the phone. She brought the phone from her ear and handed it to Cas, looking a little disappointed.

"Hello, Dean," Cas greeted.

"Hey Cas," Dean replied. Cas could tell that he was smiling.

Neither of them spoke for a minute, just basking in the other's presence. "So, why did you call?" Cas prompted.

"Hmm? Oh, I called to wish you a happy birthday."

Castiel couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. "Dean, we're going to the Roadhouse later to celebrate. Why did you feel the need to call?" Anna left the room, her face set in a small frown. Cas hardly noticed.

"Well, we're best friends," Dean began, saying the word _best friend_ like it had a different meaning. "And, y'know, 18 is a special birthday. Did you get your soulmate yet?"

Cas's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why did Dean care who his soulmate was? _Unless-_ He scrubbed that thought from his brain and focused on Dean's next words.

"I mean, you don't _need_ to tell me, but it would be nice, best friend and all," Dean rambled. "And I'm just curious, it's not for any other reason whatsoever-"

"Dean, I haven't gotten my soulmate yet," Castiel interrupted, taking pity on Dean.

"Great!" Dean said enthusiastically, almost shouting. His volume lowered to normal levels as he went on. "I mean, not that great, but, uh, I'm glad you didn't get stuck with an older woman or somethin'."

"Yes, an older woman would be simply awful. Thanks for being so concerned," Cas replied dryly, rolling his eyes even though Dean couldn't see him.

"Just looking out for my buddy," Dean said with humor. "Well, bye, see you at Ellen's later."

"See you then," Cas said, ending the call. He looked down at the phone and smiled. He didn't know quite why he was so happy, but he wasn't complaining.

Cas was still smiling when Anna entered the kitchen a moment later, looking resigned. "Did the call go well?" She asked.

"Yes. He just called to ask me whether I've gotten my soulmate yet, which I haven't. He seemed quite happy to hear that."

Anna rolled her eyes and sent him a _are you an idiot?_ look. Cas didn't know what the look was for. She walked up to Cas and grabbed the phone out of his hand. "I'm going to call Dean to tell him something. Why don't you leave the room?"

Cas didn't know what Anna and Dean had to talk about, but he left anyway. Right before he exited the room, he heard Anna say, "No, it's Anna this time. And, this you and me thing isn't really working-"

###### 

Castiel dressed up nicely - his blue tie flipped correctly, his hair slightly tamed. Dean seemed to have put an effort into his appearance as well. He wore a ACDC shirt, freshly washed jeans, and his hair was spiffed up. Cas might've even caught a whiff of manly, musky, antiperspirant. _This isn't a date_. Dean picked him up in the Impala and drove them to the Roadhouse. He even let Cas pick the music. _This isn't a date_. They both order big, beefy, burgers and talked about mundane things while the food arrived. Later, instead of splitting the bill like they normally did, Dean paid for dinner. _This isn't a date_. Dean dropped Cas off at his house with a cheery goodbye and a little wave. There was no goodbye kiss. _This isn't a date_. 

###### 

_Castiel - January 13th, 2017_

Dean’s 18th Birthday was in one week. One week until Dean found his soulmate. One week until Castiel found out whether or not he was his soulmate. He didn’t know what would be worse - Dean being his soulmate, or Dean _not_ being his soulmate. On one hand, Dean deserved someone better than Cas, someone that could provide everything he wanted. But, on the other hand, Castiel had been in love with Dean for as long as he could remember.

They first met in middle school, age 12. Castiel was a small, quiet, boy who’d just transferred from a private school. Dean was a loud, boisterous, attractive, member of the baseball team; practically the definition of a jock. For the first few weeks - months, even - they kept out of each other’s lane. But, then, when some guys on the baseball team were picking on him, Dean came to his rescue. He punched Lucifer Pellegrino directly in the face. Dean was suspended for three days, and broke some of the bones in his hand, but swore he would do it again if it came to it.

Castiel got to know Dean better after that, and hung out with Dean and his friends at lunch. Charlie, Benny, Jo, and Gareth (and Chuck, when he wasn’t in the library rushingly writing fanfiction with Becky Rosen) were very welcoming. Dean was completely different than Cas had expected. Dean was an _absolute_ nerd; a fan of all things Star Trek, Star Wars, and Doctor Who. His friends shared similar interests. Cas was seamlessly incorporated into their group.

It wasn’t difficult to fall in love with Dean. When Dean was happy, he absolutely lit up - his lips formed a glorious smile, his green eyes brightened. When Dean talked about something he loved - usually classic cars, Classic Rock, or one of his beloved Sci-Fi series - he always he a small, joyful smile on his face, and he would make large, sweeping gestures with his hands to better get his point across. When one of his favorite songs came on while they were cruising in the Impala, Dean would sing along. He would sing loudly and with a large, blinding, smile, as if he didn't have a care in the world. His voice was soft and lively, as reassuring as a light breeze in the summer.

Dean was openly bisexual, which meant he liked both boys and girls. He came out early freshman year, after his alcoholic, homophobic, father had finally been booted out. Since then, he’d slept with numerous students at their school, including a particularly notable time with Rhonda Hurley in a pair of of panties that he’d blissfully told Cas about a few days after. Dean had even slept with a number of their male friends. According to slightly intoxicated Dean, Benny had “a ginormous cock, simply huge, like the friggin’ size of the sword Ice from Game of Thrones.” Cas knew that Dean would be absolutely willing to sleep with him if he asked.

And there lied the issue. Castiel… didn’t want sex. He didn’t really get aroused, and the idea of having a roll in the hay with someone didn’t seem that appealing. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, what was _broken_ about him. He would give anything to desire sexual intimacy with another person.

Cas was currently dating Meg Masters. It was actually nice, at first. They went on a few dates, he invited her over to movie nights, and Cas finally experienced emotional intimacy that he hadn't known he'd been craving. He was happy. But, a few days ago, she began pestering him about sex. She said that she was annoyed that he wasn't "putting out." And he simply didn't know if he could do it. He didn't want sex, but why wasn't going out on dates enough? Cas put that issue in the back of his brain, having decided to not deal with his relationship with Meg until the problem stared him right in the face.

Castiel couldn’t provide Dean with sex, and Dean would never want a relationship without it. Maybe.. if Cas was really Dean’s soulmate, he would put into more of an effort. He didn’t really want to… get fucked, but how difficult would a handjob or blowjob be? For Dean, he might be willing to do that. Then Cas tried to picture Dean’s dick - a large piece of flesh dangling in between his legs - and him putting his mouth around the member. Castiel shuddered at the mental image, and not the good kind of shudder.

It would just be easier for all parties involved if Dean wasn’t his soulmate. Maybe Castiel’s soulmate would be another weirdo that didn’t want sex. Or maybe Cas was so absolutely broken that he didn’t even have a soulmate. Dean could go off and marry some beautiful girl or guy, and Castiel would get over him. It would take a while, and, _damn_ , would it hurt. But, he didn’t mind do so as long as Dean ended up happy.

###### 

The school day passed quickly. It was toward the end of Castiel’s senior year, so they weren’t really learning much. Cas had Dean in two of his classes - American History and Environmental Science. They sat next to each other in both classes, and usually talked to each other. Not this time. Cas shot down every attempt from Dean to have a conversation. Dean’s expression shifted to hurt and dismayed, but finally left Cas alone after a few times. Castiel felt awful, but he knew that it was for the best.

Cas had just closed his locker and heaved his backpack over his shoulder when Dean come up behind him. Dean looked wary and put off, like a dog that had been yelled at. Once again, Cas felt guilty.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas greet carefully, testing the waters.

The distressed look slipped off Dean’s face, and he gave Cas a bright smile. And, _fuck_ , he was beautiful when he smiled. Letting him go would be more difficult than Cas had anticipated.

“Hey Cas,” Dean replied, the smile disappearing, replaced by a wary frown. “Uh - I was wondering… are you mad at me for some reason?”

“No,” Cas answered quickly as Dean let out a sigh of relief. “Why would you think that?”

They began walking down the halls, side by side.

“Well… you’ve been distant lately. Like, you’ve been ignoring all my efforts to talk to you,” Dean said. Then, he added jokingly, “You don’t suddenly hate Star Trek, right?”

How could Castiel reply to that? The real reason he was becoming distant was because he didn’t want to grow too attached, and it would hurt less later on when he was forced to leave. But he couldn’t tell Dean that. Instead, Cas searched for a lie. “I just haven’t been feeling myself lately. Don’t worry; it’s not you. I’ll try to talk with you more often.”

It wasn’t a very convincing lie, but Dean was too busy being relieved to notice.

“That's okay,” Dean told him. “You might be coming down with some sort of illness. I’m pretty sure there’s something going around school. But, do you think you’ll still be able to make it to movie night on Saturday?”

He looked so hopeful and expectant that Cas couldn’t even muster up the strength to say no. "Yes, I will be able to attend," he said shortly.

Dean beamed. _Don't grow attached, don't grow attached_. "Do you need a ride home? I have the Impala parked right out here, and Sammy's going to math club or somethin'."

"No, sorry, I have chess club," Cas told him.

Dean looked a bit ruffled and put off. Cas hadn't ever refused an offer of a ride home. "Oh, well, see you on Saturday." Dean opened the door that led to the parking lot and left, a troubled frown on his face. The door banged shut behind him. Cas flinched. 

"See you then," Cas called after him, too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do y'all want a few more detailed scenes about their first meeting, Dean saving Cas from bullies, etc.? Also, comments are to me as a big heaping slice of pie is to Dean. Please leave feedback :)


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